


Experimental Design

by chrofeather



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alien Sex, Alienfucking, Anal Fingering, BRAIN SEX, Begging, Big Cock, Come Inflation, Egg Laying, M/M, Marathon Sex, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Oviposition, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Prostate Milking, Rarepair, Sharing a Body, Sharing a Brain, Size Difference, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Xeno, Xenophilia, belly bulge, riot loves drake, riotdrake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-13 07:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18464056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrofeather/pseuds/chrofeather
Summary: Riot discovers what an orgasm is and demands to know more.(Un)fortunately for Carlton Drake, Riot can be quite convincing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this one is basically all symbiote-fucking, as I mentioned it would be. I tend to write porn in between chapters of more serious/heavy stuff (currently my other Venom fic, Hold Against the Dark). This has absolutely fuck-all (lol) to do with my other Venom fics so if you haven't read them, no worries, but this was hella fun to write and I hope you guys like it!

The sensation of not being alone in your own mind was… odd, Drake thought. It took some getting used to, especially when the one sharing your consciousness was a nonhumanoid alien from outer space. But that wasn’t to say that he minded sharing mental space with Riot too much. He just wasn’t used to the way communication worked between them at times, an interplay of sights and sounds and memories from other senses Drake did not possess.

 

Despite its name, Riot was fairly calm most of the time. It allowed Drake to go about his day without too much interference, except when it got hungry or bored or irritated, emotions which spilled over their link fairly frequently. Riot was often restless, but it could usually be placated with food. It was a good thing the Life Foundation kept livestock on hand for use as lab animals (or, more recently, snacks). Other times, Riot satisfied its curiosity by flipping through Drake’s memories. When there was something it wanted to know more about, it didn’t hesitate to ask questions.

 

This could be disconcerting at times.

 

There had been multiple occasions when Drake was typing up memos or doing something in the lab, and Riot suddenly asked questions like, **_WHY DO HUMANS HAVE TWO OPTICAL ORGANS BUT ONLY ONE VISUAL CORTEX IN THEIR BRAINS?_** It had been interesting trying to mentally explain binocular vision to Riot, who only got louder if ignored, while also trying to hold a conversation with Dr. Skirth about the results of the animal trials. Poor Dr. Skirth had been very confused, and he hoped she didn’t think he was having a nervous breakdown or something.

 

 ** _YOU ARE STRESSED_** , Riot’s voice boomed in his head that evening while Drake was making dinner, startling him into dropping a pan full of sautéed meat and vegetables. Almost faster than the eye could see, a silver tendril shot out and grabbed the pan by its handle, setting it easily back on the stove and avoiding a minor disaster. Riot even remembered to turn off the burner.

 

Drake placed a hand over his chest and sighed, feeling his anxious heartrate thanks to the startle response. “Well, when you do _that,_ I am,” he retorted. “There’s no need to shout; I’m right here.”

 

 ** _YOUR CORTISOL LEVELS AND HEART RATE ARE ELEVATED. THAT IS A STRESS RESPONSE IN HUMANS._** Riot sounded like it was reciting something it had learned from reading a textbook.

 

Drake retrieved a plate from the cupboard and spooned the entirety of the pan’s contents onto it, alongside a pile of rice that could have fed two people on its own. He was nearly constantly hungry these days, which made sense considering he was quite literally eating for two now. And although he was eating enough calories to sustain at least two humans, Drake found that he was still losing weight, which was a bit concerning given his already slender build. Perhaps he would have to let Riot do a bit more snacking on its own, though he disliked the symbiote’s usual choice of meal, which would be brains. Preferably human brains, though Drake had managed to dissuade Riot from that so far.

 

 ** _WE ARE HUNGRY_ , **Riot rumbled, catching the tail end of Drake’s thoughts.

 

“Yes, I’m aware,” Drake said, gesturing vaguely to the plate in front of him as he sat down at the table and opened his tablet. Even if it was nearly midnight, there were still things that had to be done to prepare for his department meetings tomorrow. He was reading through research progress reports from the department leaders at the Life Foundation while he ate, or at least trying to.

 

Riot was doing _something_ in the back of his mind that was like the mental equivalent of a cat scratching at the curtains in the next room—a nagging thing that could be ignored if he really tried, but was just annoying enough to keep part of his attention.

 

Drake sighed. “Should I even ask what you’re doing back there?” It no longer felt weird to talk to the symbiote out loud, even in reference to its mental activities.

 

**_NOTHING OF NOTE._ **

 

It was like the symbiote had flipped a switch. Drake felt a powerful bloom of arousal radiating outward from his groin, and he couldn’t help but let out a breathless little sound that definitely was not a whimper, feeling his cheeks warm. His cock was achingly hard, straining against the fabric of his pants. Suddenly those progress reports didn’t seem nearly as interesting.

 

 ** _HMM. INTERESTING,_** Riot remarked in its throaty rumble, sounding huskier than usual.

 

Drake swallowed hard, feeling the symbiote’s mass percolate around his spinal column like a teasing, feathery touch from within. “What, exactly, is the point of this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

 

**_IS THIS NOT HOW HUMANS RELIEVE STRESS? I HAVE INITIATED THE PROCESS, AND THIS SENSATION IS… STIMULATING._ **

 

Drake could feel the pressure of Riot’s desire through their link, and he guessed that the symbiote was getting part of the feedback loop from Drake’s own physiological arousal. Together, it made for an overwhelming urge to drop everything and jerk off, which hadn’t happened since Drake was probably nineteen.

 

Riot, as usual, would not be ignored.

 

Another press of the symbiote’s tendrils against the pleasure centers in Drake’s brain had him nearly coming in his pants, cock twitching with need.

 

“Alright, alright, you win,” he said, getting up from the table and nearly tripping in his haste to get to the bedroom. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

 

Riot gave a rumble that sounded pleased. **_YES. SHOW US._** It rippled impatiently within Drake’s body, caressing his spine and trickling between his ribs like a silver waterfall. Somehow, the sensation felt almost erotic.

 

Drake stripped off his shirt and cast it aside, the feeling of the fabric against his skin a pleasant tingle in itself. Unzipping his now too-tight pants was an absolute relief, and there was already a wet spot where precome had soaked through his underwear. God, he was somehow hornier than he could ever remember being in his life, but he was determined to do this right. He had to show Riot that the buildup to the orgasm was almost as good as the orgasm itself.

 

First retrieving a bottle of lubricant from the bedside, he lay down on his back in the wide expanse of his bed and palmed his cock. He was so, _so_ very sensitive, and Drake let out a breathy moan, squeezing tight to keep from coming right then and there. Riot was really doing a hell of a job amping up his arousal.

 

Riot snarled, a sound of both vicious pleasure and frustration. **_WHY DO YOU DENY US?_** It growled, having felt the surge towards orgasm. Tendrils of silver crawled over Drake’s body, writhing but not much else. Riot was watching, learning.

 

“Just relax,” Drake said, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he began to stroke himself, slowly at first. His hips pushed upwards, bucking up into the squeeze of his fist.

 

A brief pause to lube up the fingers of his free hand, then he was reaching down between his legs to press at the tight opening there. He was already fairly relaxed thanks to Riot’s stimulation of his physiological arousal pathways, and the first lube-slick finger slid in with relative ease.

 

Drake could sense Riot’s surprise at the change of pace; this was a use of the human anatomy the symbiote had not anticipated. But Riot had not interceded yet, instead watching and learning and feeling with rapt attention, and Drake couldn’t deny that it felt good to hold the symbiote’s undivided attention. He slowly worked himself open until he had three fingers buried inside up to the knuckle, lazily stroking his cock all the while.

 

 ** _WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS?_** Riot growled, tired of being kept in the dark. Such a powerful need, a desire that rivaled that of hunger, and its host would deny them both its climax?

 

Just then Drake found his prostate with an expert curl of his fingers, and the shudder of pleasure that rippled up his spine like molten silver had them both crying out in unison, a moan and an inhuman screech. Drake’s back arched beautifully as he thrust his fingers in and out, pressing against that spot that had them both seeing stars.

 

A silver tendril wrapped itself around Drake’s neglected cock, its smooth not-warm not-cool surface utterly perfect against the silky warm skin. Riot stroked and squeezed, and Drake let out a breathy moan as his hips bucked up into the utterly perfect touch.

 

They were soon operating in a perfect rhythm, and it didn’t take long for the orgasm to dazzle their connected consciousness like a fireworks display, a cascade of pleasure neurotransmitters only intensified by whatever perfect havoc Riot was wreaking in Drake’s brain.

 

It was the single greatest thing Riot had ever experienced, rivaling even the consumption of the most phenylethylamine-rich prey.

 

Drake’s mind was blissfully empty of all thought for a few moments while they rode out the orgasmic high together, slowly coming back to full awareness. His belly and chest were covered in spurts of come, and even though it was sort of gross, Drake had absolutely no motivation to get up and find a towel or something to clean himself up.

 

 ** _AGAIN,_ **was Riot’s immediate demand. Whatever the sensation was that human sexual arousal produced, Riot wanted to experience more of it.

 

Drake laughed softly. “I don’t think my body is quite up for it now.”

 

Riot let out a displeased growl, but a quick check of Drake’s body revealed that he was right. They had expended a surprising amount of energy, and Riot could feel the sleepy, relaxed sensation settling over Drake’s body like a blanket. They would need to rest, then.

 

 ** _FINE. BUT SOON_** , Riot insisted.

 

“Mm. Soon,” Drake agreed, his eyes already closed. He still needed a shower, and to finish reading those reports for tomorrow, but it could wait another few minutes. At least, that’s what he told himself before promptly falling asleep.

 

Riot didn’t bother to wake him. It settled into its favorite spot between Drake’s heart and lungs, already resolving that it would make use of this new information about its host’s arousal in the very near future.


	2. Chapter 2

Drake awoke in the morning feeling cold and vaguely sticky. Looking down at himself, he remembered that he had slept naked on top of his blankets, not under them, and was still covered in dried come. He grimaced at the feeling, resolving that a shower was an immediate necessity. He got up and glanced at the clock on the table next to the bed. Nine-thirty.

 

Wait. Nine-thirty? Drake picked up his phone, noticing two missed calls from his secretary Lorena.

 

“Shit!” He immediately dropped the phone and went to his closet, pulling out the first thing that looked like it might match. Today was Wednesday, and his meeting with the Life Foundation’s departmental heads was supposed to be at ten. It simply wouldn’t do to be late, especially not when the whole R&D department was on edge with the… recent results.

 

Shower first, then clothes. One thing at a time.

 

**_WHAT’S YOUR HURRY?_** Riot practically purred, making itself known for the first time in the shower that morning.

 

Drake hardly had time to be surprised, flicking soap at the gooey silver head that manifested itself from his shoulder. “I woke up late, thanks to you. And I can’t stay; I have an important meeting that I’m already late to.”

 

Riot gave a rumble of nonchalant acknowledgement, draping its substance over Drake’s arms and back. It liked how the hot water felt against its surface, and today there was no reason to rush. Even if Drake didn’t know it quite yet.

 

Naked and still slightly damp after both brushing his teeth and combing his hair while still in the shower, Drake hurried back to where he had tossed a set of vaguely similar dark colored clothes, thinking once again how nice it was to live alone in a house on the outskirts of the city.

 

**_DON’T BOTHER GETTING DRESSED._ **

 

“Not now, Riot,” Drake snapped, trying to ignore the symbiote’s teasing slither in his pelvic area.

 

Riot seized control of their motor functions, and Drake suddenly could not move his legs, frozen to the spot while Riot’s rippling mercury-colored mass slithered over his back and shoulders. It manifested a head, and its long tongue licked a lazy wet stripe along Drake’s neck and jaw.

 

**_I WENT THROUGH YOUR MEMORIES WHILE YOU SLEPT,_** Riot practically purred in Drake’s ear, already suffusing his body with arousal hormones. **_I LEARNED A THING OR TWO LAST NIGHT, AND WITH WHAT’S ALREADY IN YOUR MIND… I HAVE A PLAN FOR TODAY, AND IT DOESN’T INVOLVE YOU LEAVING THIS ROOM._**

 

Drake tried and failed to suppress a shudder of pleasure, a low heat pooling in his groin already. “Riot, I don’t have time for this,” he insisted.

 

His phone rang just then, vibrating insistently on the bedside table. Riot didn’t stop him from picking it up and answering it. “Good morning, Lorena,” he said, trying to ignore the way Riot’s tendrils were sliding over his bare skin.

 

_“Good morning, Mr. Drake. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the past hour. You’re usually in early, and the department heads are anxious to meet with you.”_

 

“Er, yes, I know,” Drake fumbled awkwardly for words, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. “I, uh, _ahh—!”_ Any excuse he might have come up with was immediately forgotten as Riot was suddenly _inside_ him, a slick tentacle filling him to the point of pleasure on the edge of pain, a stretch that hurt _so_ good.

 

_“Mr. Drake? Are you alright?”_ Lorena sounded somewhat concerned.

 

“Fine, yes, I’m fine,” Drake managed, trying his absolute best to sound casual. “Just… feeling a little under the weather, unfortunately. _Ngh—_ ” He bit back a moan when Riot’s tendril thrust harshly inside him, another silvery tentacle caressing his balls with a curious little squeeze.

 

“I… I don’t think I’ll be coming in today,” Drake told her, slightly breathless.

 

There was a fraction of a second’s pause, but Lorena didn’t seem fazed. _“Alright. I’ll clear your schedule for the day. Feel better soon, sir.”_

 

It was all Drake could do to hang up the phone before Riot demanded his full attention once more, its tongue dragging wetly over his throat like it wanted to squeeze.

 

**_NOW THAT WASN’T SO HARD, WAS IT?_** the symbiote rumbled, its throaty growl huskier than usual with the effects of their shared arousal.

 

“If sex was what you wanted, all you had to do was ask,” Drake managed, breathless with the feeling of Riot’s slick tendril thrusting slow and purposeful within him.

 

**_ON THE CONTRARY. THIS IS WHAT_ YOU _WANT._** Riot seemed inexorably pleased with itself, already basking in the wash of pleasure and arousal hormones that permeated its host’s body. **_MY KIND HAS NO PHYSIOLOGY FOR… THIS. THEREFORE, I AM BORROWING YOURS. TO GIVE YOU WHAT YOU DENY YOURSELF._**

To Riot, it seemed laughably strange to deny oneself the ecstasy of such an experience. The only comparable analogue among the Klyntar was that of the hunt, to satiate that hunger that drove them to pursue new prey. This was a new sensation, this nameless unbridled pleasure, and Riot had no qualms about indulging in it.

 

The memories it had pulled from Drake’s mind while he slept—past experiences, fantasies, darkest desires—were delightfully new information that Riot fully intended to act on.

 

Riot felt Drake’s arousal surge, heartbeat fluttering, muscles tensing. And his psychological state was utterly desirous. From a purely physiological standpoint, his reaction could have been one of fear, but Riot sensed no fear from its host.

 

Drake gave just the barest hint of a smile. His tongue darted out to touch the silver tendril that brushed past his lips. “Then I suppose I’m yours for the time being.”

 

Riot felt a rush of possessive desire, and it gave a savage growl of affirmation. It took control of Drake’s body easily, practically tossing him onto the bed.

 

Drake found himself on his elbows and knees on the bed, face-down, ass-up, with his legs spread wide and Riot already pushing in deeper. Thick silver tendrils wrapped around his thighs and ankles and stretched possessively across his back, keeping him in place as Riot set a bruising pace.

 

He gasped and moaned helplessly, feeling so full he was sure his belly was probably bulging with it. Riot’s thickness was almost overwhelming—it hurt, but in the very best way, and the sensation of Riot’s tendrils squeezing possessively around his thighs and ankles only made it better.

 

“Mm, _ah_ …! Riot, slow _down_ ,” he managed, and the symbiote acquiesced, surprisingly. “I won’t be able to walk for days if you keep doing that…”

 

Drake felt the press of Riot’s teeth against his neck in a mischievous grin. **_PERHAPS THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT._**

 

“What happened to what I want?” Drake asked, cheekily, and another thrust of Riot’s tendril had him choking on a whimper of pleasure.

 

**_YOU LIKE THIS,_** Riot practically purred, as another tendril slithered from its crawling silver mass to wrap around Drake’s neck in a loving, dangerous touch. It had mostly immobilized Drake, not by paralyzing his muscle fibers from within (as would have been more efficient for Riot), but by wrapping its substance around Drake’s limbs tight enough to bruise, like a liquid snake. That, combined with Riot’s exploring tendril stretching him wide, searching for just the right angle inside him, had Drake quivering and panting with pleasure. His cock was leaking copious amounts of precome, and Riot had barely touched him there.

 

**_IN YOUR MEMORIES, YOU LET THOSE OTHER MEN RESTRAIN YOU,_** Riot mused, sifting through other corners of Drake’s brain while giving little nudges of stimulation to the centers which sent pleasure shivering through Drake’s body. ** _LET THEM HIT YOU, SLAP YOU, FUCK YOU LIKE A CHEAP WHORE. YOU WANTED IT._**

 

Drake’s cock throbbed with want, either from Riot’s words or the pulses of pleasure that had him ready to come untouched. His cheeks felt hot, knowing that Riot could see all of that, but somehow that made it even better. He was completely and utterly at Riot’s mercy, and he wanted it more than anything. “And what are you going to do?”

 

Riot’s tendrils slid over the expanse of Drake’s bare skin, almost lazily exploring all the sensitive places of the human body, from caressing the smooth skin of his inner thighs to pinching and pulling at his dark nipples. **_I’M GOING TO GIVE YOU EXACTLY WHAT YOU NEED_** , Riot said simply. **_I’M GOING TO USE YOU FOR WHAT THIS BODY WAS MEANT FOR._**

 

Riot’s next thrust found Drake’s prostate, and he let out a broken, beautiful moan, on the verge of orgasm. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, sounding just on the edge of needy. “Please, Riot, fuck me.”

 

Riot’s grin showed all of its jagged teeth. It didn’t even have to _tell_ Drake to beg. The arousal pheromones that suffused its host’s body were intoxicating, and all the nerve endings alight with pleasure only fed into a positive feedback loop of _need_ and _want._

 

Riot’s tendril thickened and firmed inside Drake, better able to fuck him hard and deep, while another tendril wrapped around his cock. Now that Riot knew the perfect angle to aim for, nudging that lovely spot inside with every thrust, it didn’t take long until Drake was coming harder than he ever had in his life, back arched and hands clutching desperately at the sheets.

 

The moment that both of them tipped over that perfect edge, finally exciting a flurry of action potentials that saturated Drake’s brain with a bloom of pleasure chemicals, Riot understood why sexual reproduction was so effective for a species’ survival. This… this was an ecstasy Riot did not know existed until now, and it intended to make the fullest possible use of this pleasure.

 

For a few moments Drake’s mind was blank of thoughts, only the wordless desire for more. His thighs trembled, his breath coming in little gasps, and his stretched hole clenched intermittently around Riot’s tendril.

 

Drake gave a breathless chuckle. “Sorry, I usually last longer than that…”

 

Riot snorted. The orgasm was the whole point, wasn’t it? Humans were so strange. **_NOT TO WORRY. WE ARE NOT EVEN CLOSE TO BEING DONE HERE._**

 

Drake realized that the tendril inside him had not left, and already it was giving lazy little thrusts inside him, while another tendril was lavishing attention on his cock. He was somehow already hard again. Riot could probably make him come with a simple touch in his brain, and the thought was unquestionably erotic.

 

“Then don’t hold back this time. I can take it.”

 

The guttural, possessive sound Riot made sent pleasurable shivers up Drake’s spine.

 

\--

 

At some point Drake lost count of how many times he came. It was certainly more than he ever had consecutively, and more than he had even imagined he could, given the time or the motivation.

 

Riot was utterly ruthless in the pursuit of its own pleasure and Drake’s, fucking him until it was so good it hurt, and even then it hurt until it felt good again. Riot knew exactly how much its host could take, how much he wanted and how much he _needed_ , and it was almost too perfect. Riot fucked him until the only words that Drake could speak were “more” and “harder” and “faster,” until the only thing he wanted was Riot.

 

Drake had been shooting blanks since around orgasm five or six, his cock so sensitive it almost hurt, but Riot had pushed him through several dry orgasms even after that. At one point he had convinced Riot to let him up long enough to get some water from the kitchen, wobbling on legs shakier than a newborn fawn’s. Riot’s patience had lasted approximately until it came time for the return trip to the bedroom, and instead fucked Drake in the middle of the kitchen/living area.

 

They compromised on the couch after that. Drake was uncertain he could actually walk back to the bedroom at that point, and Riot had no qualms continuing on the couch that faced the sliding-glass patio doors that provided a lovely view of the bay. It was a good thing Drake didn’t have neighbors within a half-mile or so.

 

Right now he was lying on his back on the supple suede couch, legs splayed wide and his hole stuffed full of Riot’s tentacles once again. His belly was splattered with his own come, his nipples puffy and oh-so-sensitive. His limbs felt like gelatin; he was utterly exhausted, but his nerve endings were still quivering with pleasure. Riot thrust lazily inside him, eliciting the occasional needy whimper. Riot had been massaging his prostate for the better part of an hour at this point, coupled with the occasional teasing stroke of his soft cock, trying to coax one more orgasm out of him.

 

“Riot, I can’t,” Drake panted, even as he felt little shocks of pleasure shoot up his spine from the way Riot was nudging at his prostate. “It’s— _ah!_ It’s too much…”

 

**_YOU CAN. JUST ONE MORE, AND THEN I MIGHT BE SATISFIED_** , Riot rumbled. It knew its host was reaching his limit, physiologically speaking, but Riot didn’t do anything by half measures. It wanted to end this with something special.

 

**_MAYBE THIS WILL HELP._** Riot drew its substance together, no longer spread out over Drake’s body, but instead forming a humanoid shape. Muscular arms, torso, humanoid head, like the form they took when fully symbiosed.

 

Riot’s form was huge, monstrous—it made Drake look tiny by comparison, though he was already small and skinny for his species. But the way Drake looked at Riot with naked adoration in his big, expressive eyes was utterly worth it. His gaze was almost mesmerizing even now, even while naked and covered in his own come, knees against his chest to show off his messy, well-used hole.

 

He looked at Riot’s monstrous, inhuman face and breathed, “Beautiful.”

 

Riot didn’t respond with words, instead letting out a guttural rumble as its massive, clawed hands settled into place at Drake’s hips. It formed a long, thick phallus, vaguely human, but textured with ridges and a flared head. Drake moaned with wanton abandon when Riot entered him again, stretching and filling him to the limit with its girth.

 

“Oh my god,” Drake breathed, feeling like he was so full he could choke on it. Riot started to thrust, and every time it thrust back in, Drake could see the bulge the massive phallus made in his belly. Despite the fact that his cock had long since softened, he felt a familiar tightening of his lower abdomen that meant his orgasm was close.

 

“Please,” he begged, and moaned when Riot’s claws left bloody scratches across his hips and lower back. “Oh, please, Riot, I’m so close…”

 

Riot was making an animal rutting sound now, growling and thrusting harshly into Drake like it was close to coming as well.

 

Riot’s phallus thickened, and suddenly there was a gush of warm fluid, followed by the deposit of something smooth and round and solid inside him. Drake gasped at the sensation, but Riot hadn’t stopped moving. Was that… an _egg?_ For some reason the thought was ridiculously erotic, Riot laying its eggs in him. Did Riot’s kind even lay eggs? Drake didn’t have the time or the energy to think about it, moaning when the egg pressed up against his prostate. His cock twitched, interested.

 

The process repeated itself five more times, each with a gush of fluid and another egg, roughly the size of a billiard ball, if Drake had to guess. He could do nothing but lay there, panting and whimpering as Riot finally, _finally_ pulled its phallus out, but he didn't feel the expected gaping emptiness afterwards. Drake hadn’t come, but between the eggs and the warm, sticky fluid, he was still so stuffed full he could hardly believe it.

 

Riot draped itself over Drake’s skin once again, turning back into an amorphous silver puddle. **_PERFECT,_** it rumbled, finally sated.

 

Drake was too exhausted to protest, his brain still buzzing with the aftereffects of such intense pleasure. He managed a glance downward at his swollen belly. God, it looked like he was about four months pregnant! He let his head drop back and shut his eyes, sighing.

 

“Please tell me your offspring won’t eat as much as you while they’re still small.”

 

After a moment, the silvery head that manifested from its favorite place on his shoulder let out a sound that was Riot’s approximation of laughter. Their link was saturated with the deep satisfaction of pleasure, and Riot was basking in it like a lion in the savannah sun. **_YOUR CONCERNS ARE UNFOUNDED. THE EGGS ARE WHAT YOU WOULD CALL ‘DUDS.’_**

 

Drake couldn’t help but be overwhelmingly relieved. “…I had assumed your species reproduced asexually, but this… had me concerned.”

 

**_WE DO. BUT I KNEW YOU WOULD LIKE THIS._ **

 

Drake felt his cheeks color, but he couldn’t deny that it _had_ felt good. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling like he could sleep for an entire day despite the fact that it was only around four in the afternoon. “So how do I get them out?” He couldn’t resist touching his bulging belly, giving a little press and feeling an unexpected shiver of pleasure when the eggs shifted inside him.

 

**_THEY WILL DISSOLVE IN APPROXIMATELY TWO HOURS._ **

 

“Riot, if I lay here for another two hours, I don’t think I’ll be able to move.” Drake already knew he probably wasn’t going to be able to walk tomorrow—and yes, the R&D department was going to be livid that he made them wait so long to have that meeting, but that was honestly the last thing on his mind at the moment. He was going to be feeling this for _days._

 

Riot didn’t seem too concerned, draping its silvery substance over his torso like a blanket. **_WE WILL TAKE CARE OF IT._**

 

“And I’ll need you to heal all these.” Drake gestured to the long scratches on his hips, the bruises around his wrists, bite marks on his neck and shoulder. “I don’t need anyone asking questions about my personal life.”

 

Riot’s long, thick tongue gave a lazy lick across Drake’s neck. The postcoital effects shared through their link had it feeling possessive. **_HMM. BUT MAYBE I LIKE YOU ALL MARKED UP LIKE THIS. WANT THEM TO KNOW YOU’RE MINE._**

 

Drake sighed, fondly exasperated, and stroked the smooth silver flesh draped over his own skin. It was no use arguing. He supposed he could talk sense into Riot later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was incredibly self-indulgent but I hope you guys liked it! (Also I had another ending where Drake pushes the eggs out so he can make a 5pm meeting at the Life Foundation but I liked this one better LOL)

**Author's Note:**

> All tags not fulfilled in this chapter will be in the next one.


End file.
